


Magic In Threes

by micehell



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU (ghost Obi-Wan), Canonical Character Death, Gore, M/M, Violence, a touch of horror, non-canonical character death (but he gets better ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-29
Updated: 2006-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate history for Obi-Wan's life, death, and in-between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic In Threes

He was late getting home, a stubborn leak in one of the vapor collectors holding him up. Obi-Wan expected to be met at the door with a slap and a lecture on ruining dinner. Instead he found the windows dark, the house surrounded by silence. He slowed his steps, hard-learned caution making him careful. He checked shadowed corners, peered through the cracks of doors to see if anyone was lurking there.  
  
Nothing. No one.  
  
If it was one of Lars' tricks, it was a good one. Obi-Wan couldn't remember a time when his aunt wasn't home, not once in the five years he'd lived with them, and though she'd never stopped any of the things that her son did to him, she'd never helped Lars before either.  
  
"Hello? Where is everyone?" His voice sounded odd, thin, almost like it couldn't carry through the weight of the silence. It was the only voice to be heard, though; no one answered.  
  
Something like hope, and a little like fear, filled Obi-Wan at the thought that they'd left for good, leaving the moisture farm - that barely provided enough water for them, let alone anyone else - behind. He shook his head to clear it of the crazy thought. Even the well-worn furniture and shabby drapes were more than his uncle's miserly ways would willingly let go of.  
  
There was a faint sound from the kitchen, like a footstep, but all Obi-Wan found there was a partially prepared dinner. The parma roots, gone hard and gray, finally convinced Obi-Wan that the empty house wasn't a joke. The roots had to be consumed within a half-hour of being cut or they became too tough to eat. Whatever had happened, his aunt hadn't expected it, since she never wasted food. They barely had enough as it was; none of them, not even the much-favored Lars, was more than thin.  
  
Another noise, like an animal scratching, drifted down, barely audible, from the rooms upstairs. Something about the sound scared Obi-Wan, but he silently laughed, calling himself a baby, and went, scared or not, up the stairs.  
  
He climbed them slowly, trying to avoid any creaks to mark his passage, holding his breath and listening for the sound to repeat, but nothing disturbed the silence.  
  
Obi-Wan stopped at the top, something in his head telling him he should turn and run. He ignored it, knowing he had to look, but his skin still pebbled with cold and nerves as he opened the first door.  
  
Nothing.  
  
It was his aunt and uncle's room, but there was no sign that anyone had been there; the bed was made up, nothing out of place. He looked in the closet, but the only things missing from it were what his aunt and uncle had been wearing when Obi-Wan had left that morning. If they'd gone out, they hadn't dressed up for it.  
  
The next room was Lars'. Obi-Wan avoided the room as much as he could. When he could. But Lars was older, and sneakier, and, at twenty-two, a good deal bigger than Obi-Wan's eighteen. Of course, Obi-Wan remembered what Lars had looked like at eighteen, and knew the difference in their age didn't really factor into the outcome of their encounters.  
  
Still, the room was Lars' home ground, where he was always at his most vicious, and Obi-Wan never went in it voluntarily. With all of his usual reluctance, plus his new fear, Obi-Wan opened the door. He wondered if he was more afraid of finding Lars, or of not finding him.  
  
There was nothing to find.  
  
It was messy like usual. His aunt's exacting cleanliness requirements only applied to unwanted nephews, not her precious son. So messy, yes, but nothing that appeared more out of place than usual.  
  
The last room, little more than a closet, was Obi-Wan's. He felt like a mark who finally knew which card the pea was under, after he'd already lost the bet. Grabbing one of Lars' hanb sticks for whatever protection it could provide, he cautiously opened his door, pausing when it was just open. Even with ruined parma root, he still almost expected Lars to jump out at him.  
  
Nothing jumped out.  
  
Obi-Wan pushed the door hard, hitting the inner wall with a loud bang, startling in the silence. There was still no reaction.  
  
Standing in the doorway, he had a clear view of the entire room. One cot, made up neatly. One cupboard, missing its doors, which was why it was Obi-Wan's in the first place, his two spare sets of pants and shirts hanging in it, and nowhere for anything, or anyone to hide.  
  
His knees shook, the release of adrenalin hitting him harder than the fear had. He gave a shaky laugh, out loud this time. He really was a baby; turning what was probably a bit of wind, or maybe just an old house creaking, into something sinister. Hell, even the parma roots probably meant nothing. Most likely one of the converters had blown, and they'd all gone out to fix it. The water that would be lost to a bad converter was certainly more precious than a couple of roots.  
  
Shaking his body to loosen up the tension, he decided to finish making dinner. Maybe it would put him in his aunt's good graces for once. He set the hanb stick down, pulling off his boots, and nearly fainted when he heard the scratching coming from right behind him.  
  
He only caught a glance of black and red as he slammed the door shut, turning the lock with hands that shook almost too much to do it. He grabbed up the stick again, his knuckles white in their grip. He had the unreasoning fear that whatever was out there could just walk through the walls, but a minute passed, and nothing.  
  
Then he heard low, rough laughter, and scratching against the wood of his door. The doorknob turned, came up short against the lock, and the movement stopped with a sharp click. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes closed, hugging the hanb stick close, his relief warring with his fear. Whatever was out there couldn't get in. He didn't think past that, needing to believe that help would come before the situation could change.  
  
The situation changed in that moment, the lock slowly turning, invisible hands opening it. Obi-Wan had never believed in magic, nothing in his life lending itself to fairy tales or happy-ever-after endings, but it was just another thing he'd been wrong about. He could only back away from the door, waiting, his hands wringing against the wood of the hanb stick, knowing it wasn't enough.  
  
The lock stopped moving, only silence coming from behind the door. Then the door slammed open, the wood frame shattering at the force, a splinter of it catching Obi-Wan on the cheek. He could feel a trickle of blood winding down it as he stared at the demon before him. Black and red, just like he'd seen, with a row of horns across his hairless head. Sharp nails were scratching against the broken frame, and yellow eyes almost glowed in the low light.  
  
It looked just like the monster he'd seen in the recurring nightmare he'd had as a child. It had gone on for years, leaving him to wake up screaming, then cry himself back to sleep as his mother held him. Even as he stood there, Obi-Wan could remember the dream, full of black and red and yellow, flashing blades, and death.  
  
The same sharp teeth that he remembered were fully bared as the demon grinned, coming slowly towards him. Obi-Wan threw off the old memories, and the present fear, and swung the hanb stick with all his might.  
  
The demon idly raised a hand, and the stick stopped short of the target, no amount of struggling on Obi-Wan's part getting it any closer. He let go of the stick, trying to run past the demon, but the same magic pushed him back against the wall, holding him there as the demon came closer, studying him.  
  
The demon's voice was harsh, ugly, as it growled out, "I've been waiting for you."  
  
Obi-Wan tried to push further back into the wall, wanting to disappear into it, but he had no magic to escape. One dark hand grabbed Obi-Wan's jaw, the nails digging in. His head was turned from side to side, the demon looking for something, but Obi-Wan had no clue as to what.  
  
"Pretty," was the only comment, then the hand pulled back from his face, coming forward in a hard slap that left stars swirling in Obi-Wan's eyes, and darkness in their wake.  
  
::::::::::  
  
Obi-Wan was vaguely aware of being carried out of his room, down the stairs, then farther down. The storeroom, was Obi-Wan's muzzy thought. He hadn't thought to check that, as it always stood empty. There was rarely enough of anything as it was, never enough to store.  
  
His body met the stone floor in a rush. He rolled, wanting as much distance as he could get between himself and the demon. He came up hard against something soft and damp, and smelling of blood. He didn't want to open his eyes, but that was a child's response, and ignorance wasn't Obi-Wan's friend in the circumstances.  
  
The light was low in the room. There was just one bare incandescent, flickering occasionally, hanging over the door at the top of a short flight of stairs. It provided just enough light to make Obi-Wan squint, pain stabbing behind his eyes as he tried to blink it away. It provided just enough light that he could make out what the something soft and damp was. His uncle's throat was gaping wide, the grayish-white of his spine standing out in the red mess. His blood had pooled beneath him, beneath Obi-Wan now, black and smooth, almost beautiful in the grayed room.  
  
Obi-Wan scrambled back, trying to get away, but his hand slid on the slick stone, the not-yet-cold blood splashing his face as he fell. Sharp nails bit into his arms, pulling him up. Obi-Wan got his feet under him, then shoved the demon in the chest, making him step back. Obi-Wan ran for the stairs, but the demon just flung him hard into another wall, face first, and held him there.  
  
The demon came up behind him, his breath hot against the fear-chilled skin on Obi-Wan's neck. "My master sent me to look for you. To kill you."  
  
Obi-Wan braced for pain, wondering how he would die, but the demon wasn't done. "I wonder why my master wants you dead? Or how he knows of you at all, stuck out here on this wasteland of a planet? From a vision, of course, but of what? Maybe of his own death, or perhaps his plans gone awry from something you do, witting or not. Still... if he wants you dead, might there not be advantage for me if you live? Anything that would harm him, harm his plans, would be very welcome news for me. Don't you agree?"  
  
He didn't give Obi-Wan a chance to agree or not, one hand grabbing his chin and forcing his head to nod. "I knew you would. However, you must agree that if he caught me disobeying him, that would _not_ be to my advantage. Which should I choose, do you think: relative safety or potential gain?"  
  
The hand was still on Obi-Wan's chin, but it didn't move. It was probably a trick, the demon just speaking to hear himself talk. Figuring he had nothing to lose, however, Obi-Wan answered, ignoring the way his voice shook. "Potential gain sounds good."  
  
Warm breath blew out in a laugh against Obi-Wan's ear. "Shaking like a leaf, the blood of your family all around you, but here you are still willing to stand up for yourself. Mmm, all that lovely untrained potential. I can see why my master would have visions of you. I think maybe I should let you live. Do you agree?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded even while the hand on his chin encouraged the gesture, but he didn't quite dare to hope.  
  
"It's unanimous then. So be it."  
  
The magic let go at the same time the demon stepped back, allowing Obi-Wan to turn and watch him. He was being watched in return, a look Obi-Wan had seen before, on Lars' face just before things turned violent. He tried another run for the door, but wasn't surprised when the demon laughed again, the magic dragging Obi-Wan into one of the corners.  
  
The flickering incandescent gave just enough light to show his aunt's body. She was suspended from one of the never-used meat hooks; so bloodless, so pale, her skin seemed to glow faintly in the darkness. There were dark, viscous pearls hanging from the hem of her dress, slowly feeding the sea of blood below her. Obi-Wan tried to pull away, but hands, visible and not, pushed him close, against her, causing her body to sway, a pendulum trailing gore across him with each swing.  
  
The smell of the blood was overwhelming, making his stomach twist. He vomited helplessly against her, unable to pull away.  
  
The demon gave a mocking sigh. "You seem upset. Yet the rumors I overheard in the village said she didn't treat you well. That none of them did. Your neighbors seemed to disapprove... though not enough to help, apparently. I would think you'd be more grateful. Haven't I done you a favor?"  
  
Caught against his aunt's body, Obi-Wan couldn't shake his head. He couldn't speak, his throat scoured raw by the convulsions that still racked his stomach. There were tears streaming down his face, further soaking her dress, but he didn't care, no pride left to him at that point. It didn't matter, anyway; whatever happened wouldn't be because of his words, or lack of them.  
  
"She screeched like a vizr when I cut her. Sounded like she'd had a lot of practice screaming. I think I really did do you a favor by getting rid of her."  
  
The demon stepped up beside them, hugging the bodies, dead and alive, together. A black tongue snaked past the sharp teeth to lap at the blood on Obi-Wan's face. Obi-Wan couldn't help the whimper that escaped him, and his stomach heaved again, but there was nothing left to come up.  
  
The sound seemed to spur the demon on, and he pushed his tongue into Obi-Wan's mouth. Obi-Wan choked on it, before he thought to bite down. The demon just laughed into his mouth, magic holding it open to the assault. The tongue traced along his own, sliding further in, while hands started skimming along Obi-Wan's body. The touching made him shake, afraid of what was coming. He moved closer to his aunt's body, even the dead's touch preferable to the demon's.  
  
The unwanted touch retreated. "You _are_ ungrateful. First I kill them for you, then I agree to let you live. I think you owe me, don't you?"  
  
"You didn't kill them for _me_. You killed them for _you_. "  
  
The yellow eyes were bright with amusement, a savage grin stretched over the too sharp teeth. "Oh, yes! That I did. And I enjoyed it, very much. But not half as much as I'll enjoy this."  
  
Time seemed to lose its measure for Obi-Wan after that. Minutes seemed like seconds as his clothes were pulled from his shivering body. Minutes seemed like days as he was pushed down to the floor, its rough surface scratching at his hands and knees. Sharp nails dug into his hips. He could see Lars' face then, frozen in fear and pain, staring accusingly up at him, the body it was once attached to lying a little further off.  
  
Then time snapped back in place as his arms were pulled up behind him and his face pushed down into the blood that had once been his cousin's. He held his mouth closed tight against it, tried to be stoic and brave and not cry out, but the brutal penetration made him scream. Blood oozed in and oozed out, taint filling him everywhere.  
  
His face was pushed into the blood until he thought he would drown in its thin depths. He didn't mind, taking it as a greater mercy than any the demon was likely to show. But even as the world grayed, a hand grabbed at his hair, nails digging into his scalp, pulling his head back.  
  
The pull on his neck and the push at his ass worked against each other, making Obi-Wan think his back would break with the pressure. But it didn't, and time lost its hold again, stretching endlessly out in front of him until he couldn't help but scream again, a harsh croak that barely escaped his straining throat. The demon screamed with him as everything came crashing down.  
  
Obi-Wan welcomed the flood of heat in him, not caring when it ran in cooling streaks down his thighs. He didn't even fight when the demon bit his ear, stealing more of him away. He just let himself drop when the demon let him go, his blood mixing with the others', all they'd ever shared.  
  
It was over. One way or another, it was over.  
  
He lay there, staring blindly back at Lars' face, only the whisper of footfalls on the stairs telling him the demon was leaving. He was too tired to be surprised he was still alive.  
  
A creak from above, the door opening, and then that voice came falling down for one last blow. "So much potential, and in such a pleasing form. I'll be back for you one day. I know you'll be waiting."  
  
The incandescent swung in the wake of the slamming door, flickering wildly before it died all together, leaving Obi-Wan in darkness.  
  
::::::::::  
  
  
Even on a planet like Tattooine, with its strange mix of natives, and even stranger mix of visitors, Qui-Gon's height and size easily parted the crowds before him as he strolled through the busy marketplace. It made him feel like a ship moving through a sea of beings, the sounds of commerce and theft like excited seabirds squawking around him. He smiled at the image, but he was happy enough with knowing that Obi-Wan, following in his wake, wouldn't have to walk through anyone, which he always hated.  
  
Pausing at a mela stand, fingering the fruit under the watchful eye of the vendor, Qui-Gon said, "I was thinking about taking Anakin as an apprentice."  
  
This earned him an "Excuse me?" from the merchant, and an "Okay" accompanied by a shrug from his companion.  
  
Qui-Gon waved a careless hand at the merchant, his 'I'm harmless' gesture. "Just thinking out loud."  
  
The Zabrak bowed a little, standing aside to give a better view of his cart. Qui-Gon picked up one ripe mela, sniffing it, his mouth watering a little at the light, sweet scent. He turned to Obi-Wan, almost telling him to smell it before he caught himself. He was getting forgetful, that fast-approaching fifty-fifth birthday having more of an impact than he'd hoped for, though not as much as he'd feared.  
  
Qui-Gon shook off the thought, continuing the interrupted conversation. "Okay is all you have to say? The last time I suggested taking an apprentice, you were a little more vocal about it."  
  
"Yes, well, last time was only a year after Xanatos, and I felt I needed a longer resting period before we started in on the next ordeal."  
  
He was amused both by Obi-Wan's sarcastic reply and the vendor's still wary look. Qui-Gon handed over a coin for the fruit he'd chosen, long used to both reactions. "Are you suggesting that the newest member of the Council was less than a joy to train?"  
  
Obi-Wan tilted his head, appearing to consider his reply carefully. "Yes."  
  
Torn between swallowing the bite he'd just taken and laughing, Qui-Gon almost choked. "I'll have to be sure to tell Xanatos that. It might tone down that 'I'm the youngest Council member ever' strut of his a little. But truly, Obi-Wan, considering what his apprenticeship was like, and considering that Anakin is older than any member of the Council, young or old, is likely to be happy about, are you sure you don't mind my taking him on?"  
  
"I will abide by your decision, Qui-Gon. I cannot expect you not to take on a student to meet my whims, after all." Obi-Wan gave him a wry grin. "And if he whines too much, I can always just disappear for a while."  
  
Qui-Gon took another bite of the mela, knowing that Obi-Wan was just making a joke, but even hearing the words made him nervous. He couldn't tell if it was just his nerves, the long, pointless negotiations not making any of them happy, or if it was something more, a bit of prescience tugging at him. All he answered was, "I expect he will whine too much, especially when he misses his mother, but we'll work on it."  
  
Obi-Wan didn't comment on the 'we' part, but Qui-Gon knew that he'd help as he could, as he always had. Even when they'd first arrived at the Temple, and Obi-Wan had found that there were others that could see him, he'd still always stayed close to Qui-Gon, close to the little boy who'd found him going quietly insane, surrounded by nothing but the screeching, mindless poltergeists that had once been his family, and a moisture farm long abandoned to its ghosts.  
  
Shaking off another shiver of anxiety, Qui-Gon gave himself a mental slap. It was probably just being back on Tattooine after all these years that was making him so edgy. It had never been a happy place for Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon hadn't exactly been upset to leave it either. He'd be just as happy to go this time.  
  
He nodded his head in the direction of Anakin's house, and said, "Come on then, let's go and talk to Anakin's mother. He is all the family she has, and it would be cruel to broach the subject with the boy first only to have her refuse to let him go."  
  
It was what had almost happened to Qui-Gon, after all. At five years of age, he'd been past the point that the Temple normally took children when he'd first been identified as Force sensitive. The Jedi who'd tested him was amazed by his midichlorian count though, and had been willing to make an exception. Qui-Gon's family, however, hadn't been. They'd just bought a long-abandoned moisture farm that was going to need every hand they could get to work it. Losing Qui-Gon, as small as his hands were, wasn't something they'd been willing to do.  
  
His mind on the past, Qui-Gon waved Obi-Wan in front of him as they headed for Anakin's. Long used to seeing Obi-Wan walk through things, Qui-Gon wouldn't have noticed that he'd gone through someone if the man hadn't flinched, turning to stare after Obi-Wan as he walked on.  
  
Qui-Gon looked at the man, confused. In the fifty years he'd known Obi-Wan, only Force sensitives, and strong ones at that, had been able to see him. This human, average in every way, wasn't even mildly sensitive, and yet he was staring after Obi-Wan, clearly watching him, not turning away even as the sun flashed yellow in his eyes.  
  
Qui-Gon felt his nerves flare again, his own vision filling with red and black and hate, a nameless terror, before it all faded back to the mundane crowd noisily going about their business, the man already back to haggling over some speeder parts, and Obi-Wan waiting for him up ahead.  
  
Hurrying to catch up, Qui-Gon looked back for a moment, catching another flash of yellow. Then it was gone, and Obi-Wan was there, and everything was as it should be as they went to talk to Shmi, and Qui-Gon could only be happy that they were leaving soon.  
  
::::::::::  
  
Shmi studied him, sadness and hope both on her face. Qui-Gon could tell she wanted to keep her son with her, but she also couldn't help but smile at the eager questions Anakin asked about the Jedi, at his obvious desire to go even as he held tightly to her hand. Qui-Gon answered all the questions, but didn't elaborate past them, trying not to influence the decision any more than he had, not after what had almost happened with Xanatos.  
  
While on a mission to Telos, Qui-Gon had found Xanatos, the son of an influential politician. The boy's Force presence had been bright and strong even at a distance, and it had resonated with Qui-Gon. He'd felt it almost like pain, the feeling that he was destined to be the boy's teacher, but Crion hadn't agreed. Qui-Gon had talked and prodded, knowing the Force was speaking to him, through him, and had finally won his way.  
  
He'd only wondered, years later, if maybe he had done more than let the Force _speak_ through him, especially when Xanatos took to flinging all he'd given up to be a Jedi in Qui-Gon's face every time they had an argument. It had taken a lot of talking, and sometimes yelling, on Obi-Wan's part to get them past that phase, and Qui-Gon still felt lingering guilt over all of it that no amount of meditation had ever completely removed. He didn't need to add to it, no matter how much he felt that Anakin was meant to be a Jedi.  
  
Shmi ran a hand through Anakin's hair, not showing any surprise when the boy started talking to someone she couldn't see. Qui-Gon was impressed by the level of her acceptance. Many parents, even good ones, were unsettled by shows of Force sensitivity in their children, and were often relieved when the Jedi came calling. Yet Shmi simply took it in stride, seven years of living with Anakin's tremendous potential not making even a small dent in the joy she had in her son.  
  
While Obi-Wan held Anakin's attention, Shmi turned to Qui-Gon. "He'll be well taken care of?" She laughed, waving his reply aside. "Of course he will, that was just my fear talking. Even out here on Tattooine, we've heard of the Jedi, and the good they do. I know he'll be okay."  
  
Qui-Gon understood her fear; if she'd heard of the Jedi, she must know it was a dangerous life. And yet she was still willing to let him go. If Qui-Gon didn't know better, he'd say she was Force sensitive herself, able to see where Anakin's path led, but maybe that was simply part of being a mother. He could only vaguely remember his own mother, and what he did remember was nothing of the easy affection Shmi showed Anakin. From what Obi-Wan had said about her, Qui-Gon was pretty sure his memories weren't mistaken either.  
  
He felt a moment of doubt, wondering if it really was too late, if Anakin really was too old, too attached to this wonderful woman, to ever acclimate to the Temple.  
  
Shmi asked, "Will you take Anakin in your care, or will someone else?"  
  
Qui-Gon hadn't mentioned his intentions, not wanting to set anyone's hopes up before he'd faced the full Council. He'd mentioned the boy to Yoda, hinted at what he wanted, but Yoda had always been slightly indulgent of him, and the rest, even Xanatos, or especially Xanatos, might not be willing to do so. He was sure he could get the boy into the Temple though, even at seven. His potential was too great, too dangerous, for them not to offer him some training, even if he never became a knight. "The children are placed in groups, sharing rooms and classes as they grow. It gives them both companionship and a sense of belonging."  
  
Most groups would have difficulty accommodating Anakin, with his combination of a worldliness not usually seen in Temple younglings and an ignorance of the things those same younglings would automatically expect him to know. But the Bear group might be open to him, especially with a Wookie and a Slezak in their midst, both long-lived species that tended to enter the Temple later than normal.  
  
Shmi gave a wistful smile, and nodded, her mind made up. Qui-Gon felt sad for her, and again impressed that she would abide by Anakin's desires in this rather than her own. Not many people understood the drive to be a Jedi.  
  
Qui-Gon said his goodbyes, leaving Anakin excitedly chattering to his mother about what a great Jedi he would be one day.  
  
They walked quietly for a while, then Obi-Wan asked, "Do you still mean to take him as an apprentice?"  
  
"Yes. Do you mind after all?"  
  
"No, just there's something... vaguely annoying about him."  
  
Qui-Gon laughed at that. "Yes, there are several things about him that we'll have to work on. Or rather that the Temple masters will have to work on. The boy will need some serious remedial training and no few years of seasoning before he's ready to be an apprentice."  
  
"Ah," was all Obi-Wan replied, but Qui-Gon could see the relief on his face.  
  
The traffic around them started to thin, and Qui-Gon wondered why. In all the time they'd been in Mos Espa, it had never been less than busy, even late at night. They were only about a half-kilometer from the port, though, so Qui-Gon just picked up his pace, not wanting to be caught out on the street if a storm or some other danger was approaching.  
  
They entered a square that was completely deserted, and the curiosity that Qui-Gon had felt turned to alarm, a thrill of Force warning spreading through him. He turned to go back, wanting to return to the main passage, as empty as it had been, but before they had taken more than a couple of steps, Obi-Wan called out, "Qui-Gon, look."  
  
Obi-Wan's voice was sharp, and surveying the scene, Qui-Gon could understand why. The square was rapidly going from empty to full as a large crowd of men came streaming in from all four entries. He put as much distance between himself and the men as he could, but he knew it wasn't enough. There were about thirty men facing him, and they were pushing in from all sides.  
  
Trying to keep calm, to negotiate as he'd been trained to do, Qui-Gon asked in a quiet voice, "Is there something I can do for you men?"  
  
There was snickering, and a hostile murmur of voices all around, but the only clear answer came from a man that Qui-Gon recognized. It was the human that Obi-Wan had walked through earlier, that had stared after him as he'd left. His face was full of anger, and he was still shooting glances at Obi-Wan even though no one else in the crowd seemed able to see him. "We're here to teach you Jedi to keep your nose out of other people's business. Tattooine is doing just fine as it is, and we don't need the Republic coming in here and trying to mess things up for us just because some greedy Senators want a piece of our action."  
  
Qui-Gon could actually see his point. He wasn't sure what had driven the Senate to try to draw Tattooine into the Republic, not with slavery and Spice trading still making up such a large part of their economy. Even when he'd lived here as a child, brief as that had turned out to be, he known it wasn't safe, his family always keeping him close, knowing what was waiting for him if they didn't.  
  
They'd been threats against the Jedi since they'd been here, too, most of the vested interests on Tattooine neither liking the Jedi presence, nor being particularly afraid of retribution if the Jedi should come to harm. They were far enough out on the Rim that their very remoteness was an effective defense. The Hutts had been particularly vocal in their displeasure.  
  
But these were mostly human, not a species that tended to have a lot of power here, and none of them looked affluent. The threadbare clothes and lack of good weapons certainly didn't hint at it, far more rocks and fists present than blasters. It was suspicious to say the least.  
  
Anomaly or not, Qui-Gon didn't have the time to investigate it, the violence in the crowd feeding on itself, and it exploded outwards in a flurry that Qui-Gon was hard-pressed to defend against.  
  
Drawing his lightsaber, he didn't even try to avoid killing, the sheer numbers in the crowd making that option null, but something seemed to be driving the mob on, the death around them not deterring any of the others.  
  
Obi-Wan screamed a long, helpless "No" as Qui-Gon went down under a wave of flesh, but Qui-Gon flung them away from him with a powerful shove from the Force. He felt a moment of regret that he hadn't accepted Xanatos' offer to accompany them on their mission. He'd wanted to give his former apprentice time to enjoy his new status, but Obi-Wan would have been able to communicate with Xanatos, to warn him about what was happening. Neither Knight Lero or Master K'lys could see Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon knew there would be no help coming.  
  
As if to deny his thought, he heard a voice shouting, "Master Qui-Gon," and Anakin was there, throwing his young body into the crowd regardless of the danger.  
  
Potential or not, the boy didn't have the training for this, and Qui-Gon yelled at him to run even as a slap sent the boy reeling away. Anakin shook it off, looking ready to start back in again, but Qui-Gon stepped in front of him, protecting him from the crowd while saying, "Anakin, I need you to go get the other Jedi. You know where they're staying, right?"  
  
He grunted as he felt a rock hit his leg, making it past his guard, but Anakin was already running, winding his way quickly through the crowd as he called back that he'd bring the other Jedi, and Qui-Gon felt a brief surge of hope that they might get there quickly enough to help.  
  
He fought hard, holding on long past any reasonable time, sometimes getting a glimpse of Obi-Wan's miserable face. Qui-Gon had a moment to think that it almost looked like Obi-Wan was crying, even though he couldn't be, before a fist caught him on the side of his head, sending all his thoughts flying. Then he was down on the ground again, alone except for those who wished him harm and one who couldn't do him any good, and he hoped that Obi-Wan wouldn't watch what was going to happen.  
  
The man from the market was in front of him now, still watching Obi-Wan even as he stood over Qui-Gon, a gleam of victory in his eyes as he raised his knife.  
  
There was a gleaming arc of light as the blade flashed down, and Obi-Wan shouted "No" again, throwing himself uselessly in its path.  
  
Qui-Gon waited for the blade to pass through Obi-Wan, to enter his chest and steal him away. He wondered if maybe they would be together now, or if he'd be leaving Obi-Wan all alone again. He wondered why it was taking so long for the pain to start even as he felt a weight slam against him. Far too big to be a blade, Qui-Gon found himself with his arms full of a body, blood pouring out over them both.  
  
Time stood still then for Qui-Gon, and he saw a series of still moments flash before him. Flash, yellow eyes full of surprise, a bloody knife held loose and forgotten. Flash, Obi-Wan's pale face, no different than usual, except for the pain etched on it, the blood splashed across his chest. Flash, Qui-Gon's own hands, pushing desperately at the source of the blood, shaking in a fear he hadn't felt for himself.  
  
Then time rushed forward, more hands pulling Obi-Wan from him, his cries tearing at Qui-Gon even as he fought the hands that punched and pulled at him. He struck out with everything he had, sending bodies flying, but still more piled in.  
  
Shouts came from outside the mass he was buried in, and then Qui-Gon was free, the hum of Lero and K'lys' lightsabers coming to him even over the cries the mob was making. Some of the people turned to face the new threat, some of them ran away, and the man from the marketplace turned to Obi-Wan, striking out with the blade even as he screamed, "You won't get away this time!"  
  
Qui-Gon used the last of his strength to send the knife flying, a Force hold on the man's neck keeping him away from Obi-Wan, draining away his threat. The yellow eyes faded, going to black, and then the body convulsed, finally hanging limp.  
  
Qui-Gon heard Anakin calling to him, heard Lero and K'lys shouting, their lightsabers hissing as they fought, but he ignored them all, crawling over to the still figure on the ground before him. He turned it over carefully, biting his lips hard to keep from crying when he saw the damage that had been done.  
  
Gray eyes opened, dazed, but looking right at him. "Qui-Gon? Are you all right?"  
  
He couldn't help but laugh, a touch of hysteria in it. Lying on the hard ground, bleeding to death right in front of Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan wanted to know if _he_ was all right. "Yes."  
  
Then unable to keep the wonder, the fear, out of his voice or off his face, Qui-Gon said, "Obi-Wan, you're bleeding."  
  
Obi-Wan strained his neck to look, crying out at the pain that caused, his eyes wide in shock. "I'm bleeding? But I can't..."  
  
And Obi-Wan couldn't bleed, dead for nearly two hundred years by his own best guess, but still, there it was. Qui-Gon had never felt so torn between emotions before, the fear at war with a painful hope. "Obi-Wan, I think you're alive."  
  
A breathless "Oh" was the only answer, and then Obi-Wan fell back, his body going still. Qui-Gon desperately felt for a pulse, almost shouting when he felt it, steady if somewhat weak. When he _felt_ it, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever get over the jolt of surprise and happiness at being able to touch what he'd only seen and heard before.  
  
Then Lero was kneeling beside him, concern on his face. "The boy said you'd been attacked, but he didn't mention that you had someone with you that had been hurt."  
  
"Obi-Wan was only hurt right before you arrived." Qui-Gon pressed his hand down harder against the still-bleeding cut that went deep in Obi-Wan's chest - and that should have been in his - as he tried to stem the loss of that new-found life.  
  
Lero started to say something, then stopped, the now familiar surprise visible on his face as well. "Obi-Wan? The Obi-Wan that half the Temple thinks is just an eccentricity on your part? That Obi-Wan?"  
  
Qui-Gon had already heard that rumor, so he ignored the dig at his sanity in favor of more important things. "Yes, that Obi-Wan. Now I need your help getting him back to the ship. He needs immediate medical attention, and then we need to get him to the Temple healers as quickly as we can. I think that even the Senate will have to agree that Tattooine doesn't seem quite ready to join the Republic, and I'm not leaving anyone here to be taught that lesson again."  
  
K'lys was there then, far too phlegmatic to ever show surprise, Force lifting Obi-Wan while Qui-Gon kept pressure on the wound. He nodded his head at something behind Qui-Gon, saying, "What about the boy?"  
  
Qui-Gon had forgotten about Anakin with all that had happened, but he turned to him now, his hands still pressing tight against Obi-Wan. "Anakin, we need to leave. I have to get Obi-Wan to a healer, and it's too dangerous to stay here with opinion so set against us. I'm also not sure a local healer could help..." Qui-Gon trailed off, realizing that the boy didn't need all this information. "If you still want to go with us after what you've seen, you need to go with Knight Lero back to your house and get packed as quickly as you can. We don't have time for delays."  
  
Anakin was looking at Obi-Wan, no fear on his face, only curiosity, and perhaps a hint of pleasure. Qui-Gon guessed he'd decided in favor of being a Jedi, then. "You need to remember that you won't be coming back here for a long time, maybe not ever, once you go. If you and your mother need more time, to decide to go or say goodbye, don't worry; we'll send someone back for you, and you can make your decision then. But if you're going with us now, you need to run."  
  
Grabbing Lero by the hand, Anakin took off towards his house. As he reached the edge of the square, he looked back and waved, his eyes flashing yellow in the sun and a big smile visible on his face before he passed out of sight. Qui-Gon barely noticed him as he and K'lys carried Obi-Wan away.  
  
::::::::::  
  
Yoda was hovering by Obi-Wan's bed, patting his arm curiously, like a child with a new toy. "How are you, Obi-Wan?"  
  
Obi-Wan's answer was bright and happy, if a little slurred. "I think I'm alive, Master Yoda, though I have absolutely no idea why." He scratched at the still healing knife wound on his shoulder, frowning when Qui-Gon pulled his hand away, then turned back to Yoda with the utter seriousness of the heavily drugged. "Being alive is much itchier than I remember."  
  
"Much itchiness is there for the living. Used to it, you will become."  
  
His eyes already drifting closed again, Obi-Wan murmured, "Okay," and slept.  
  
Yoda patted his arm again, affection in the gesture this time. He turned to Qui-Gon. "Know how this happened, I do not. Happy that it happened, I am."  
  
"Yes, Master, as am I. I was just afraid, that is to say, concerned that it might not be..."  
  
Yoda put a name to Qui-Gon's fear. "That permanent it is not."  
  
He nodded his head in agreement, the fear still too close to attempt more.  
  
"In nearly 800 years, many wonders I have seen, but never this one. With certainty I cannot say what will happen, only what I believe. Dead he was, dead he is no longer. Stay alive he will, until he dies, like all of us must. Like he was meant to."  
  
Qui-Gon was relieved even though he knew Yoda was guessing as much as any of them were. But nearly 800 years of practice at the art of guessing wisely had to count for something. "I wish I knew how he'd done it. Gods, I wish I just knew what he'd done, then maybe I could be sure that it wouldn't be undone."  
  
"How he became what he was we have never known, Qui-Gon. That even Force sensitive he was, was just a guess until now. A living death. A ghost, but not; a consciousness kept intact, instead of haunting in mindless fear and hate. Never seen this before had I, nor heard of it either. Until running into the Temple came one small boy, dragging Obi-Wan behind him. Something that his 'demon' did to him, perhaps, or the nature of his death. Never know we might."  
  
Yoda patted Qui-Gon's arm this time, affection also clear in that gesture. "Always full of marvels is life, is the Force. Given one you have been to enjoy."  
  
Qui-Gon smiled, thinking that if he could just get his nerves to calm down, he would be happy.  
  
His stick clicking across the infirmary floors, Yoda started to leave, turning back with a questioning tilt to his head. "Something to ask me, have you?"  
  
Qui-Gon hesitated, knowing what he wanted, but not sure if he should ask. But he needed to, and he thought that Obi-Wan needed him to, as well. "I want to train him, Master."  
  
Yoda raised his ears, giving Qui-Gon a confused look. Qui-Gon was sure it was an act; Yoda was usually several steps ahead of Qui-Gon in whatever game they were playing, but he clarified his statement anyway. "I want to take Obi-Wan as my apprentice."  
  
The ears twitched, but Yoda just nodded his head several times, his lips pinched in conspicuous thought. "Was not Anakin to be your new apprentice? Call me you did to talk about him. Said that even in the face of much Council disapproval, sure you were that the boy was meant to be trained. Now here you are, an even older apprentice on your mind."  
  
Well, Obi-Wan was older - eighteen years of apparent age, several hundred in reality. By knowledge alone, Obi-Wan was a Jedi already, having followed Qui-Gon through his own training. He had helped Qui-Gon study, had done the katas right alongside him, and gone along on every mission. The only reason that Obi-Wan needed to be an apprentice at all was to teach him to do all the things he already knew in a living body. To train him to harness the Force that flowed so strongly through him, that had never been identified when he'd lived the first time.  
  
Qui-Gon still felt that Anakin needed to be trained, for the boy's own safety if nothing else, but he couldn't ignore the pull to train Obi-Wan, to finally give him the life that should have been his all along. "I want Obi-Wan as my apprentice."  
  
"Then your apprentice he is."  
  
::::::::::  
  
Qui-Gon settled the blanket around Obi-Wan's legs, making sure it covered them completely. Then he fluffed the pillows behind his back, next making sure the drink on the coffee table was easily within reach of the couch and sitting firmly on its coaster. He pushed it a little closer to Obi-Wan, just in case.  
  
The nervous jitter to Obi-Wan's legs knocked the blanket askew, but he wouldn't let Qui-Gon fix it, pulling out of his reach. "I'm not going to fall apart if the my legs aren't perfectly warm, or if I have to reach a little for my glass, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon was still getting a thrill of pleasure hearing that title from Obi-Wan's mouth. He really hoped that it was entirely due to his pleasure in getting to train Obi-Wan and nothing else, but considering how much time he was having to spend in the shower lately, he suspected that it might not be. "You've only been out of the infirmary for three days, Padawan. A little caution isn't unreasonable at this point."  
  
Now Obi-Wan was playing with the edges of the blanket, one leg still bouncing on the ball of his foot. Unless he was drugged or sleeping, Obi-Wan didn't seem to be able to hold still. It nagged at Qui-Gon, long used to Obi-Wan's almost ever-present calm.  
  
After taking a long drink from his glass, Obi-Wan kept it in his hands, slowing turning it round and round, as he said, "Of course not. However the overwhelming amount of caution you're showing is beginning to get irritating."  
  
Sighing, knowing he should never have expected Obi-Wan to show him the proper respect due his position, not after all they'd gone through, Qui-Gon gave in. "You're right. It's just I'm..."  
  
"Still nervous. I get it. Don't you think I am, too? I keep expecting that at any moment I'll just go back to being what I was. Even though I've always missed being able to sleep, missed having time when my awareness could just turn off, I'm almost afraid to do it now, because I might wake and find this all a dream."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded, fully aware that as strange as this was for him, it must be worse for Obi-Wan. Better, too, maybe. Qui-Gon was curious about that. Sitting down on the couch beside Obi-Wan, he asked, "What does it feel like, to actually feel again? Is it wonderful? Bad? In between somewhere?"  
  
Obi-Wan thought about it, different emotions flying across his face. "Frightening. Intense. Everything feels entirely out of proportion, like hot water is the best thing ever invented, and an itch is the end of the world."  
  
Qui-Gon laughed. "You and your itching."  
  
"Well, it was horrible, and you kept stopping me from scratching."  
  
Growing serious again, Qui-Gon said, "Yoda believes that this is permanent. That whatever happened, you're alive again, just like the rest of us poor mortals. He just doesn't know why."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. "I used to talk to him about it, about how I'd come to be a ghost and yet still had my own mind, my memories. We talked about it a lot, really, though that was probably more because it was so novel to have someone to speak to besides you. I must have bored him to tears until I got used to having others who could actually see me." Obi-Wan laughed, remembering. "You used to get so upset with the other children here, and not a few of the masters, when they couldn't see me. Even when you were still with your parents, you used to pout for hours when your mother called me your little imaginary friend."  
  
Wanting to get the conversation away from his five-year-old behavior, Qui-Gon asked, "And you still can't remember anything you might have done to hold yourself here after you died?"  
  
"No, though Yoda was never sure it was something I'd done. He thought it might have been something the demon did to me while he raped me."  
  
Qui-Gon flinched at the words, though Obi-Wan had said it in a matter of fact way. Trying to divert the subject again, not wanting to bring up bad memories, he said, "What would you like for dinner? There're still a great many things in the pantry that you haven't tried."  
  
But Obi-Wan was still thinking, and he ignored Qui-Gon's question. "I don't really remember how I died, anyway. I was out along the canyon wall, the one that ran down the south face, do you remember?" He didn't pause for Qui-Gon to say whether he remembered or not. "We'd had one of the big collectors set out there. It was always capricious though, working fine for weeks, then throwing fits for days. I remember climbing up on it, getting dizzy. I'd been having problems keeping food down, what little there was of it. I think I fell. Or maybe... I might have jumped. I don't remember. I don't think I want to."  
  
His voice had gone blurry, like his memories apparently were, disjointed, and Qui-Gon didn't push him. "I don't guess it matters at this point. Even if we never know why or how you stopped yourself from going fully into the Force, you did. That we know. I for one am thankful for it."  
  
Still upset by what he could remember, by what he couldn't, Obi-Wan said, "It wasn't so much that I wanted to die, as that I didn't really care if I did. And he'd said... he'd said he'd come back for me. Maybe I decided not to wait." He shook his head, trying to chase the partial memories away. "I can remember some people from town finding me after he'd left, the horror on all their faces. They took me to my room, even though I asked to leave. I didn't want to stay there, where there was nothing but bad memories and ghosts. I told them about the demon, and they didn't believe me. I told them about the ghosts, too, but they didn't believe that either. Not then, anyway. Later, after I'd died, and the others had settled enough to be heard, then they believed. Not that it stopped anyone from selling the place to whatever suckers they could find."  
  
"Like my family."  
  
"Yes, like them." Even with the joke, Obi-Wan's eyes were still distant. "I could hear them talking while they were taking care of me. Walta, the woman who ran the general store, said that they should just let me die, save the effort of a trial, but Dav said she hadn't seen what my family had done to me, what they'd probably been doing all along, and that I'd been driven to kill them. At the time, I was too tired to care what they thought, though I was a little insulted that they believed I was so weak that I'd have stayed there if someone had been hurting me like that all along. Lars was an asshole, and a violent one, but I could mostly avoid him, more so as I got older, and it wasn't like I had bruises on me all the time. I'd been saving what money I got, too, doing odd jobs for Walta now and again, just so I wouldn't have to put up with even that anymore. If it had just been a couple of months later..." Obi-Wan trailed off, a shudder running visibly through him.  
  
Qui-Gon pulled him into a careful hug, happy to have a way to offer comfort that went beyond words. "If it had been later, the outcome would still have been the same. Yoda always thought your demon sounded like a Dark Jedi, or maybe even a Sith apprentice, and I agree with him. It didn't matter where you were, he would have found you eventually. Yes, if you'd been somewhere else, it might have saved your family, but it might not have, and a different setting could very well have changed his decision to let you live."  
  
Caught in his arms, Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan shudder again at that, and wished he could take it back. It wasn't until he heard the snort that followed that he realized Obi-Wan was laughing. Tears starting to leak out his eyes, Obi-Wan pulled back a little, arms still around him, but able to look up at Qui-Gon. "I believe if you think back on it, you might see that I actually did die, regardless of his decision."  
  
Voice dry, Qui-Gon said, "So I'm guessing that you don't think that was much of an advantage then." He laughed, seeing the point. "Yes, well, you'll have to excuse me, but I'm tired and my mind's not running on all tracks right now. It's been a hard month, and I'm not getting any younger, you know."  
  
Obi-Wan slapped him on the back of his head, his face lightening in his pleasure at being able to do so. "Don't start with me, youngling, I'm far older than you."  
  
"Yes, elder, but in the body of someone over thirty years my junior. Excuse me if I think that might make a slight difference."  
  
Looking down at his body, Obi-Wan touched it hesitantly, as if still not sure it was real. "It's been so long; I'd forgotten what everything felt like. I thought I'd remembered. All those longs days with nothing to do but listen to the others scream and chase the living off until there was no one but us. I had nothing to do but remember and dream, no sleep to break the monotony. But it turns out I spent all those years longing for something that was just a ghost of the reality. I feel like everything's too much to take in, like every sensation is going to be the thing that finally drives me mad after all this time."  
  
Obi-Wan's voice had been rising as he spoke, a touch of panic in his face, and Qui-Gon pulled him close again, letting his solid presence ground him. "It's okay, it's okay. You're not going mad. You won't. You're far stronger than you give yourself credit for, and you'll handle this, just like you've handled everything else that's ever happened in your life. Or death," he added before Obi-Wan could.  
  
Qui-Gon felt the tight muscles slowly relax, Obi-Wan pushing closer, almost climbing in his lap. Qui-Gon could feel a hardness pressing warmly against his thigh. He sighed, wishing it were that easy, that that was another comfort he could offer. Running a careful hand through long, smooth hair - hating that they'd have to cut it - Qui-Gon rocked Obi-Wan a little, trying to ignore his own cock, hardened in response to the body held so close. "Obi-Wan... you're my apprentice now."  
  
"I've heard this speech already, Qui-Gon. I was eavesdropping when you gave it to Xanatos."  
  
"Which you shouldn't have been."  
  
"But I was. I sympathized with him, understood how he felt. Only it was always hopeless for me, as you were totally beyond my reach. My touch."  
  
Obi-Wan did touch then, a light trace of fingers down Qui-Gon's nose, across his lips. Qui-Gon wanted to touch his tongue to them, to draw them in his mouth, but he was a Jedi master, and he had a duty. "As long as you're my apprentice, there are certain rules that must be followed, certain things that are inappropriate. Anything that might interfere with my authority, or might pull your attention from your lessons, is something to be avoided. Intimacy between us might very well do either of those things."  
  
"Rules? Rules like an apprentice will be accepted before he's thirteen years of age, or he can't be accepted at all. Rules like an initiate should enter the Temple before he's three years of age, because it makes it less likely that he'll acclimate if he's older. Rules like those?"  
  
Qui-Gon sighed. He also knew Obi-Wan's temper, and it was obviously brewing. "Obi-Wan, you know -"  
  
But Obi-Wan didn't care, talking over him. "I've known you for almost fifty years, Qui-Gon. I remember when you cried yourself to sleep at night, frightened of the new life you were living. I remember when you and Mace got caught trying to Force lift yourselves up to Master Rep-Lan's window, wanting to know if the tentacles really did go all over. I remember you vomiting on the table, and yourself, when you tried to out drink a Corellian freighter pilot on Doras, when you were newly knighted and feeling a little too sure of yourself. There is no standard master-apprentice relationship between us, and there never can be. Not after what came before. I'm sure Master Yoda was well aware of that when he agreed to let you train me. Now why aren't you?"  
  
Obi-Wan was right, of course. For all the apparent differences in their age, it was the elder-looking who was at an extreme disadvantage here. Yes, he had more physical experience of the world than Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan had been an adult through all their time together, and Qui-Gon most assuredly hadn't. The details of far too many of Qui-Gon's childish exploits were in both their heads, as Obi-Wan had been quick to bring up. The dignity that Qui-Gon traded on in his dealings with outsiders, with the younglings, was never truly treated with proper respect by Yoda, Mace, or Obi-Wan.  
  
Arms wrapped around Qui-Gon, his face buried in his chest, Obi-Wan whispered, "Please, Qui-Gon. Give me this. You know it won't change what we are to each other, and I need... something. I'm tired all the time, but I can't sleep. I can't seem to get my brain to turn off even for a second, and I feel like my insides are trying to claw their way out of my skin, like everything's too big to fit inside me any longer, and I just want to forget for a while. I just want to be."  
  
Qui-Gon felt a little tug at the hem of his tunic, Obi-Wan's hands still firmly around his waist, and he could feel the curve of Obi-Wan's smile even through the fabric. That elegant accent, inherited from a mother that Obi-Wan would rarely talk about, had gone coarser, the voice rough with want and humor. "I've wanted this for so long, so very long. If it helps, you can consider it a lesson in Force control. I'm sure there are many things that I could _grasp_ better in this kind of learning environment."  
  
Feeling his own control slipping away, not sure why he wasn't helping it along, Qui-Gon still hesitated. "Obi-Wan... do you think this is a good idea? After all, not a month before you died, something... very traumatic happened to you. I would understand if you might not -"  
  
Qui-Gon stopped when he felt Obi-Wan laughing again. "You are aware that that was nearly two hundred years ago, right? That it's not as if I've been dwelling on it all these years? But if you need proof of what I want..."  
  
Obi-Wan pulled Qui-Gon's head down, no finesse and certainly no recent experience behind his questing tongue, but a lot of enthusiasm. Even while he tried to devour Qui-Gon, mouth first, his hands were busy, pulling at ties on his tunic, on his leggings, occasionally brushing against Qui-Gon's cock, which was long past hard and desperately arguing Obi-Wan's case for him.  
  
Giving in to both of them, to long-held desires, Qui-Gon returned the favor, pulling Obi-Wan up off the couch, his remaining objections falling to the floor, along with their clothes, on the path to his bed, where he pushed Obi-Wan down, his body covering him.  
  
Qui-Gon couldn't really know what it was like for Obi-Wan to be alive again, but he knew what it was like for him. It was overwhelming to have Obi-Wan register on all his senses, not just sight and sound. He couldn't get enough of his smell, trying to breathe him in, deep inside. And the feel of his skin, the rough silk of his hair, they pulled at him, making him afraid that he'd be too rough in his need to have more, to have it now, after what seemed like, what was, decades of foreplay.  
  
The taste of him was almost past bearing. Sweet lips, slick with Obi-Wan's saliva, with Qui-Gon's. Hard nipples, salty and warm. And the cock that tangled in Qui-Gon's beard as he licked his way down, that left wet trails against Qui-Gon's face, his lips, his tongue... he swallowed that down, unable to get enough.  
  
Sight and sound still held their sway, too. The flush across that beautiful face, the encouraging, happy sounds coming out of that graceful throat, pushed Qui-Gon's arousal up to a fever pitch. He made himself hold tight, not letting Obi-Wan's eagerness or his own fierce need drive them too fast, but regardless of Obi-Wan's true age, his body was still young, long unused to touch, and it didn't take much until he was coming, his breath hitching on an almost-whimper as Qui-Gon gently sucked him clean.  
  
One arm stretched above his head, a lazy grin on his face, his nervous twitching stilled for the moment, Obi-Wan trailed a foot slowly along Qui-Gon's side, saying, "That was... nice."  
  
Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow in mock disdain. "Nice?"  
  
"Yes, well, you _are_ getting on up there in age. I suppose it was too much to ask for... something more."  
  
His cock twitched at that, but Qui-Gon still felt a niggle of doubt. "More? I was thinking that I could teach you all I know about oral sex, would that count?"  
  
Obi-Wan laughed. "If you were listening to some of the more lurid stories I told you in your misspent youth, you should be well aware that I wasn't a virgin before... well, before I died. I could probably teach you a thing or two about sex, especially after all I've seen here in the Temple while you were sleeping."  
  
He winked, and Qui-Gon felt a little more of his doubt disappear. "Well, then, what does your _vast_ experience, and apparently unlimited voyeurism suggest that we do now?"  
  
Reaching up to grab Qui-Gon's still-hard cock, Obi-Wan's smile became hungry, too many emotions still swirling behind his eyes. "Fuck me. Fuck me into the bed, through the floor, into the room below. Maybe we can both learn something from Master Sleran while we're there."  
  
The command went straight past Qui-Gon's brain, into his cock, which twitched with the need to obey. Without any conscious thought, he pulled the lube out of his bedside drawer even while his other hand was busy mapping out the very willing body beneath him. Slick fingers then pressed into tight flesh, and Obi-Wan opened around them, letting him in. Even relaxed, it was a tight fit, and Qui-Gon worked it, fingers stretching the flesh, spreading the slickness of the lube everywhere, finally loosening things to where his cock had some chance of fitting.  
  
Obi-Wan was ready, wrapping his legs around Qui-Gon's, angling his hips up to meet the head of the cock slowly pushing in. Tight around his fingers, Obi-Wan's ass was an almost painful squeeze around Qui-Gon's cock, but the pain was a distraction against orgasm that was circling too close, and against instinct urging him to move faster, harder.  
  
Obi-Wan's neck arched as the head slipped inside him, and his hands gripped the headboard, his knuckles white with pressure. "Gods, I'd forgotten. I'd forgotten."  
  
He pushed back against Qui-Gon, taking him deeper, his face a mixture of pain and pleasure, his pink tongue darting out to lick lips gone dry. It was too much for Qui-Gon, and he leaned in to capture the tongue, instinct finally winning as his cock thrust too deep, too fast, and they both moaned into the kiss. Obi-Wan's lips pulled away, lightly biting along Qui-Gon's jaw, his throat, then licking down the hollow there.  
  
The need to thrust, to rut, to take, was pounding in Qui-Gon's head, in his racing pulse, but regardless of his dismissal of it, Obi-Wan had only lived such a short time past being raped. He hadn't had enough time alive to accept what had happened and move on, and death had probably just made it remote rather than something Obi-Wan had dealt with. Whatever else happened here today, Qui-Gon was determined that it would be slow and gentle.  
  
Obi-Wan had his own ideas. Even while Qui-Gon held still, waiting for him to adjust, Obi-Wan was pushing back against him, a growl deep in his throat. Qui-Gon used every ounce of control he had to hold steady, to not come at the feel of him, but Obi-Wan was laughing with pleasure, pulling Qui-Gon's head back down with strong hands, kissing him deeply, even as an awkward pull with legs and Force seated Qui-Gon's cock all the way inside.  
  
They were both breathing raggedly, loud in each other's ears as the kiss broke, and Obi-Wan squirmed beneath him, his body begging for more. "Please, Qui-Gon. I know where I am, whom I'm with, and what I want." He strained upward, fucking himself with the scant measure that he could gain against Qui-Gon's weight and hesitation.  
  
Qui-Gon's determination was nothing to that, and he pulled back only to sink in again, again, again, nonsense pouring from his mouth at the feel of Obi-Wan's ass gripping him tight, the fingers in his hair, the nails on his back, the legs digging into his own ass, drawing him deeper, until he was drowning in it all. He held Obi-Wan's head still with one hand, his tongue fucking his ear. Qui-Gon's other hand was between their bodies as Obi-Wan's cock pushed up into it, then pushed back onto the cock that was filling him, his swollen mouth slack with need and shaping Qui-Gon's name as he came.  
  
Obi-Wan tightened at climax, and Qui-Gon cried out at the painful intensity even as he fought to drive through it, his hips managing two harsh thrusts before he followed, his teeth latching onto a tempting bit of shoulder as rode out his own orgasm.  
  
Content in the cradle of Obi-Wan's body, Qui-Gon didn't want to move, didn't want to pull out of the attachment he'd formed against all the strictures against it. He'd known ever since he'd first been taught the non-attachment rule as a child that he could never follow it, not with Obi-Wan around. First as his invisible friend, then later as an almost-parent, and finally back to friend again, there'd never been a time since he'd known him that Qui-Gon hadn't loved Obi-Wan above all others, more than any rule.  
  
Now Obi-Wan was apprentice and lover, and Qui-Gon knew he was doomed, but didn't care. He let all his doubts go, rolling off an already sleeping Obi-Wan, pulling him close again as he mumbled sleepy words against Qui-Gon's neck, one arm sliding across Qui-Gon's waist. Content for the moment.  
  
Let him sleep, Qui-Gon thought. Let him enjoy all the things he's missed all this time. Let him learn from me what he can, and then, if no one else has taken Anakin as an apprentice by that time, maybe Obi-Wan can. Or I will. And we'll train him together, regardless of what the Council has to say. Though Qui-Gon figured that Yoda had probably already guessed that, too, most likely knowing exactly what he'd agreed to with Obi-Wan's apprenticeship.  
  
Qui-Gon touched his lips to the much loved hair, whispering, "You will be a great Jedi one day, my Obi-Wan, and I will always be by your side."  
  
Then he slept, dreams of black and red and yellow, flashing blades, and death chasing him through the night.  
  
::::::::::  
  
Coruscant never truly got dark, the lights from the traffic alone enough to keep the planet in a twinkling gloam throughout its revolving night. Deep inside the power station, even that dim light would have been a welcome addition.  
  
The power station was - almost - deserted. Qui-Gon had made sure the maintenance droids, and their few human counterparts, were out of the building before they'd started their search. The building was largely empty space, with a latticework of walkways stretching out along each story to the central core, but there were many small recesses along the walls, the tiny red and yellow indicator lights that filled them breaking up the darkness, but not enough to show if anyone might be hiding there. The core itself was a warren that could have held an army. It rose twenty stories straight up, casting long shadows that the dim lighting could barely penetrate.  
  
Story by story they searched, making sure to always keep the other in sight, the memory of Master Windu's body a reminder of how dangerous what they sought was.  
  
Sending his voice out along a Force channel to keep it from being inadvertently overheard, Qui-Gon said, "She wouldn't even hold them before she died. Said the father wasn't anyone she'd known."  
  
That sent a shiver through Obi-Wan. He could understand how she'd felt. "Did she give instructions for their custody?"  
  
"Organa said his wife would love to take the girl, and Padme didn't seem inclined to argue. That just leaves the boy."  
  
"I'd say the Temple was the best place for him, but if Anakin knows they're alive, that would be the first place he'd look. The last thing we need is for those children to be the start of a dynasty in service to our new _emperor_ ; not with the potential they have."  
  
They were about halfway up the core, and Qui-Gon nodded his head at an access way, indicating where they should search next. They approached it cautiously, but there was only a room full of quietly working machinery on the other side. A hallway led from it further into the core, but it was sealed off by a series of cycling energy shields.  
  
Obi-Wan looked for the control to turn them off as Qui-Gon continued. "With the situation with Palpatine, I'm not sure how safe the Temple's going to be even if Anakin never finds out about the children. I was thinking that maybe we might -"  
  
He cut off as the sound of a controlled energy field came thrumming into the room, resonating off of the shields; the distinctive sound of a lightsaber. They'd found what they'd been looking for, or rather it had found them.  
  
They turned to the door, their own sabers drawn, ready to face someone who'd once been friend to one and student to the other, but they had to duck as the red flare of blade came arcing at them from behind.  
  
Anakin laughed, kicking out at Obi-Wan even as he blocked a strike by Qui-Gon. "I've been waiting for you. What took you so long?"  
  
Obi-Wan jumped away from the kick, but couldn't avoid the Force push that slammed him back through the doorway, his boots sliding on the smooth floor, giving him no purchase until he crashed into the small railway guarding the drop to the main floor ten stories below.  
  
His weight and the Force behind the push were too much for the thin metal, and they both went over the edge, Obi-Wan grabbing at the edge of walkway a couple of stories down, flipping himself back to its safety as a faint clatter marked the railway's meeting with the floor.  
  
Qui-Gon's face peered out over the drop for a second, looking for him, and Obi-Wan gave a nod to allay his concern before he disappeared again, the sound of sabers clashing following. Using a strong push, Obi-Wan propelled himself back up, finding Anakin and Qui-Gon moving steadily back along the hallway, the shields' cycle off for the moment. Their blades locked and relocked, neither able to gain an advantage, Qui-Gon cautiously not pressing the fight, looking for the trap that Anakin's fierce smile did nothing to hide.  
  
Obi-Wan had just reached the edge of the hallway when the shields started their next cycle, separating him from Qui-Gon, and then separating Qui-Gon from Anakin. They all held still, at an impasse until the next cycle down.  
  
"How's my wife doing, Master? Is she eagerly waiting for me to return?"  
  
Dressed in black, the red of his saber painting his features red, except for the yellow glow in his eyes, Anakin was nothing like the friendly, if moody, boy that Obi-Wan had trained. The broken, bloody mess that he'd left of his wife had nothing of the Jedi that Obi-Wan had fought beside, either. "She's dead, just as Master Windu is."  
  
For a moment, sorrow chased across Anakin's face, but then anger and malice washed it away. "They were poor sport. Let's hope the two of you will do better."  
  
Qui-Gon had knelt, his head bowed in shallow meditation as he waited, but he looked up at that. "More than enough for you, anyway. You caught Master Windu by surprise, but you have no such advantage here. This fight you will not walk away from."  
  
His voice rang with more than it's usual timbre, a tinge of the Force in it. Obi-Wan felt it stir something in him, a fluttering sense of familiarity that he couldn't quite catch, but it fled at the sound of Anakin's harsh laughter.  
  
"Maybe so, Master Qui-Gon." Qui-Gon grimaced at hearing Anakin's old name for him coming from something that was only the shell of the man he'd known, but Anakin didn't see it, his eyes fixed on Obi-Wan. "But even if I lose here, I'll still win."  
  
He had the smug look of someone who knew something they didn't, and it was obvious he wanted them to ask. Obi-Wan didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but knowledge was better than the alternative, and they were a captive audience after all. "Why do you say that?"  
  
"Because even if you strike me down, it's only yourself you'll be killing in the end." He grinned, pleased with their confusion. "And besides, with the plans that my," and here he put a bitter twist on the word, " _master_ has already set in motion, the days of all the Jedi are numbered."  
  
He had a master beyond Obi-Wan? "Master? Why would you, with your abilities, need a master now?"  
  
Anakin looked disgusted yet resigned. "It took me far, far longer to gain control of this body than I'd expected, and even then I only had limited success. But Palpatine saw my problem, and he offered to help. He taught me how to use the weakness that Padme represented to get my foot in the door, so to speak. There is still some resistance, but her death helped." He paused, looking at Obi-Wan intently. "Both your deaths, especially that of his beloved master, will finally give me complete control."  
  
Before Obi-Wan could figure out what part of that to question first, the shields started to cycle again, releasing Anakin first, and then Qui-Gon behind him. They engaged again, but Qui-Gon held back, waiting for Obi-Wan to be free to join them.  
  
The last section cycled out, and Obi-Wan rushed forward, his blade already up. Anakin ducked away from a strike from Qui-Gon, though, and hit a panel by the end of the hall, cutting the cycle short just as Obi-Wan reached the end of the hall, trapping him again.  
  
When Anakin had been hiding in the room, he'd obviously made good use of his wait, learning the controls and what he could do with them. Obi-Wan could only look on as Qui-Gon tried to make his way over to the panel, but Anakin wouldn't let him, speeding up his strikes, going strongly on the offensive now that he had room to maneuver and only one of them to face.  
  
Anakin launched a feint that almost drove Qui-Gon back into an open refuse chute, but Qui-Gon jumped up and over the strike, smiling at the look of surprise on his opponent's face. "Who do you think taught Obi-Wan those types of moves in the first place, Anakin? Or did you just think I was too old for such things. You needn't worry, I'm still young enough to deal with you."  
  
This time Qui-Gon went on the offensive, his blade battering at Anakin's, using his greater mass to advantage, and circling them around so that they were back near Obi-Wan, who was on his toes, waiting for the cycle to end.  
  
They were only meters apart when all three of them staggered. Obi-Wan couldn't help the cry he made as thousands of voices called out in pain and death.  
  
Anakin looked as dazed as Obi-Wan felt, but he was smiling all the same. "So ends the Jedi."  
  
Qui-Gon was shaking his head, disbelief and horror vying for control of his face. "All of them... Yoda, Adi... all dead." He shook his head again, throwing his shock off, and then shook it a third time as Anakin's blade took him through the chest, the end of it pointing straight at Obi-Wan as he screamed, "No!"  
  
Qui-Gon fell just as the shield did, but before Obi-Wan could check on him, Anakin was there, his blade flashing in, trying to end it quickly.  
  
Their fight was harsh, brutal, no quarter given. It had nothing of the playful, even beautiful, moves that their sparring had had of old, hate and pain wiping out all of Obi-Wan's grace before it, and Anakin was too hard-pressed not to respond in kind.  
  
Obi-Wan tried to hold onto the hope that Qui-Gon still lived, but the dim lighting, the flashes of black, red, and yellow as he fought the monster that had been his student, had such a nightmare quality that it was hard to feel anything but despair.  
  
The realization came like a blow, that fluttering sense of familiarity that he'd not been able to place finally settling into the memory of the dream that had haunted him as a child; the black, red and yellow swirling through the scene, the flashing blades, the death. The demon before him. This was what the dreams had been warning of.  
  
Once he'd started his training with Qui-Gon, learning to use the Force that he'd not even known about the fist time he'd lived, he'd figured out that his childhood dreams had been visions, but he'd assumed they'd been of the demon he'd faced on Tattooine. Except for the lack of lightsabers, it had matched.  
  
Parrying the red blade arcing towards him, bright against Anakin's black clothes, and looking into his glowing eyes, Obi-Wan finally understood what Anakin had meant when he'd said it had taken him longer to control his body than he'd expected. The demon he'd faced before, that had stolen his family and his body, was in Anakin, hiding behind the familiar face.  
  
How it had happened, Obi-Wan couldn't begin to guess. He had trouble enough believing it _could_ have happened, though, since he'd been a ghost for nearly two hundred years, who was he to scoff at the thought of possession. All he knew was that this thing had taken far too much from him, not the least of which was the man whose body was facing him now. Qui-Gon was... had been right. He couldn't allow Anakin, or what had once been him, to walk away from here.  
  
He blocked another strike, launched one of his own. His voice was harsh with anger and shortened breath, but he still ground out, "I will kill you."  
  
He brought his blade hammering down. "For what you did to my family."  
  
A feint forward, then a hard slash back. "To Padme, and Mace, and the Jedi."  
  
He kicked out, catching the demon in the knee, sending him staggering back towards Qui-Gon. "To Qui-Gon, to me."  
  
Another strike drove Anakin to his knees, Qui-Gon's still-as-death body right behind him. "For what you've taken from Anakin and all of us, this ends here."  
  
Anakin's face was smiling. It used to be one of his best features, that smile, but that was before it became twisted with hate. "Figured it out, have you."  
  
The yellow eyes were fixed on Obi-Wan's, but they kept flicking down to look him over. "It gave me such a thrill to fuck you in front of your dead." He reached behind him to pat Qui-Gon's leg. "I can't wait to do it again."  
  
Obi-Wan snarled and brought down what should have been the killing blow, but Anakin flipped back over Qui-Gon, making Obi-Wan pull up short, not wanting to risk killing Qui-Gon if he were still alive.  
  
Then Anakin was up, launching his own attack, bring his blade in on a side sweep meant to disarm him. Obi-Wan twisted his own blade up and in, turning the intent back on him, his blade cutting through Anakin's arm at the wrist.  
  
The hand, still clutching the saber, went flying, landing at the edge of the refuse chute even as Anakin dropped to his knees again, his face contorted with pain. Obi-Wan stood over him, ready to end it, but seeing the pain on that face, free from the demon's hate, brought up old instincts, the need to protect his student, and he hesitated. He should end it now, for all of them, but he couldn't help but wonder if maybe Yoda - if he lived - might not know of some way to drive the demon out, to get Anakin back.  
  
At his hesitation, Anakin's face showed fear for the first time. Clutching his maimed arm close, he shook his head, sneering. "Mercy, Master? For me? That's not what I'd have of you."  
  
Obi-Wan looked at him, confused. It was almost as if the demon wanted him to kill him. He kept his blade poised to strike, but thought about it, wondering what the demon could gain in death.  
  
How long they remained like that Obi-Wan didn't know, but the stillness of the tableau was broken by Qui-Gon's voice, calling his name.  
  
Letting Anakin's pain, and a Force hold, keep him in place, Obi-Wan went to Qui-Gon, dropping beside him faster than he'd meant to as his shaky knees gave out. He looked into those dazed blue eyes as he pulled Qui-Gon's head onto his lap. A tear dropped on Qui-Gon's cheek, making it look like he were the one crying, but Obi-Wan wiped it away, his voice tight as he whispered, "Master."  
  
Qui-Gon put one shaking hand to Obi-Wan's face, tracing the tears. "Still such a joy to be able to touch you, even after almost twenty years."  
  
"Shh. Don't talk. Save your strength while I get some help."  
  
"Too late for that. The boy, Obi-Wan. The girl is settled, but the boy's all alone. Promise me you'll look after him."  
  
Obi-Wan shook his head, not wanting to hear this now. "There's time for this later."  
  
But Qui-Gon's breathing was getting slower, his face going slack. "No, no time. One last touch for me. Remember, my Obi-Wan, remember. Always be with you."  
  
When Qui-Gon stilled, even his breath gone, Obi-Wan leaned over the body, pulling it as close as he could, trying to keep what he'd already lost. "Qui-Gon, please."  
  
Lost in his grief, he almost didn't react in time when Anakin broke his hold, calling his blade to his remaining hand and then bringing it down towards where Obi-Wan still knelt.  
  
Obi-Wan turned, hampered by Qui-Gon's weight, but still managed to parry the blow. Anakin leapt past him, feinting another strike, then turned to flip over him, the real attack a slash down from above. But Obi-Wan's blade was already there, waiting, cutting through Anakin's legs even while his body continued on.  
  
Anakin screamed, falling awkwardly to the floor, rolling towards the chute. His legs came to rest at the edge, but his body went over and down, the yellow eyes wide with terror as he disappeared, his scream slowing fading away.  
  
Obi-Wan put Qui-Gon down and went to look, but there was nothing to see in the darkness, and distance and grief were playing with his senses. There would be an incinerator at the bottom of the chute, but it might not be lit at the moment. Anakin might be alive still. He couldn't tell.  
  
Turning back to Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan knelt beside him. He pulled Qui-Gon's legs down straight, crossed the long arms over the broad chest, tugged the tunic into place, smoothing down the scorch-edged hole. He finger combed the beautiful hair back into place, letting it frame that face one last time.  
  
He gave himself a moment to think about lying down beside him, holding tight until death took them both, but Qui-Gon had placed a responsibility on him, one he'd take in the memory of both his master and his student.  
  
He kissed the cooling lips one last time, then stood up, igniting his blade. He would rather have given Qui-Gon all his due as a Jedi master, a full pyre with all his friends and admirers in attendance. But they were dead as well, and Obi-Wan didn't know what he'd be facing when he left this building. He was probably being hunted himself, now, and he couldn't take Qui-Gon along, not without making both of them in need of a funeral.  
  
Biting back the tears that wanted to start again, he moved his blade to the hem of Qui-Gon's tunic, setting it on fire. Even as it lit and burned, though, the body seemed to fade, the cloth sinking in on itself until it was only material and flame. Obi-Wan had never seen or heard of anyone doing that before, and it gave him hope where there'd been none before.  
  
He watched the fire burn itself out. The Republic had become Empire, the Jedi were no more, and he himself was apparently going to be a fugitive, carrying with him a baby he had no idea of how to take care of. It made Obi-Wan tired just to think of, but, slipping out of the building, making his way past the storm troopers that were milling around it, he let himself believe that Qui-Gon had been right, and that he would be with Obi-Wan always.  
  
Obi-Wan just hoped he'd see him soon.  
  
::::::::::  
  
The light was dim along the hallways of the Death Star, which was helpful to Obi-Wan as he hunted. He hid in the shadows, using the troopers expectations _not_ to see him there as another cloak against discovery.  
  
He just hoped that Luke was doing well on his own. Or not on his own, but with Solo, who Obi-Wan liked, but wasn't too sure about leaving a rather naïve boy with. He probably should have done more to make Luke aware of what the galaxy was really like, but he'd enjoyed the artlessness of him, even if the whining had been rather trying from time to time. Just like his father, really, and Obi-Wan wondered if Bail had had to deal with it, or if that trait only carried through on the male line.  
  
The panel he was looking for was coming up at the next crossway, and Obi-Wan slowed his approach, not wanting to make any mistakes now. After he'd taken out the tractor beam, then was soon enough for doing stupid things.  
  
Thinking about who he'd face while doing the stupid things gave him pause, but he threw it off. He needed to keep his mind on the here and now, not on a future he'd been waiting on for nearly twenty years. He felt the loneliness like an ache inside, and thought, soon.  
  
He'd never meant for any of this to work out the way it had. He'd halfway expected Yoda to have survived what had happened to the other Jedi, had halfway expected someone to take Luke off his hands, letting him slip free from the burden that Qui-Gon's last request had put on him.  
  
Instead, he'd become a moisture farmer. Again. How Lars would have laughed to see him become the very thing he'd never wanted to be. Well, Lars would have laughed if he hadn't been a ghost, bent on driving Obi-Wan out of the house, not unlike he'd done when he'd been alive.  
  
Obi-Wan had spent countless weeks, with little sleep or rest, divided between trying to placate a crying infant and trying to figure out a way of setting his family's spirits to rest. That he'd eventually solved both problems was the only reason he still had any sanity to claim. Lars had always been something of a whiner, too, and Obi-Wan could almost have believed that Luke and Lars were related if he hadn't known better.  
  
Then again, who knew what Lars had gotten up to when he'd gone to town alone. Obi-Wan had always managed to find willing partners there, and he was only completely sure about his own lack of progeny due to the sex of his bed mates.  
  
The area around the panel was empty, leaving him free to start cross-circuiting the controls, thereby taking out the tractor beam, but not alerting anyone to that fact. It took time, but little concentration, which was just as well, because Jedi training or not, Obi-Wan had little of it to give at the moment.  
  
The moisture farm had been a mess when he'd first taken Luke there. Qui-Gon's family had been the last ones foolish enough to buy it, and that had been nearly a hundred years before. The state of disrepair had left him struggling with recalcitrant machinery and a small child at the same time, but it was the last place anyone would think to look for them, and at the time, safe asylum had seemed more important than comfort.  
  
The machinery, even with the cogs and pistons having been sanded in place years ago, had been mostly preserved in the dry, desert air. Obi-Wan tinkered and worked his old magic, learned in his first life, and sometime he just broke down and bought some new stuff from the Jawas, taking care not to question too deeply about where they'd gotten it from, but in the end, he'd got the farm up and working.  
  
Their life had been hard, but it got better. Obi-Wan turned out to be a better farmer than his uncle, much to his amusement, and eventually he'd achieved an easier life than he'd had there as a child. It had left him with plenty of free time to train Luke, and as difficult as the boy could be to live with, he was a joy to teach. The same potential as his father, and just as quick to learn.  
  
Obi-Wan was almost done with the controls, but his fingers kept slipping in his anxiety. In anticipation. He'd promised himself this reward for doing what Qui-Gon had asked, and, just as his dreams had been showing him, it was time collect on it.  
  
In many ways Luke reminded Obi-Wan of Qui-Gon; so sure of himself that he sometimes didn't listen to anyone else, but also full of compassion and loyal to a fault. He'd stayed with Obi-Wan past the age he'd wanted to go. Stayed when he'd longed to become a pilot, just like his father used to dream about, and all because one old man told him to wait, that a change was coming soon.  
  
Now he'd be leaving that boy behind, rewarding his loyalty by making him an orphan. Or an orphan as far as Luke knew, anyway. Obi-Wan wondered if he should have told him who his father was. But, then, that might have just led to questions that Obi-Wan couldn't easily answer. He still had no idea how the demon had come to be in Anakin, still didn't know if it was some inherent quality in Anakin that let him be supplanted in his own body, or something else altogether. And explaining what Luke's father, whether of his own volition or not, had done to his mother before she died... no, that hadn't been a conversation that was in anyone's best interest.  
  
Obi-Wan finally finished with the controls, almost humming in his pleasure at being done. He moved quickly back through the halls, towards the ship, traveling the same path as he always followed in his dreams.  
  
The hanger doors were in sight when Obi-Wan finally found what he'd been looking for. Even in the mask and armor, he'd know the feel of his former student anywhere, even with the taint of his demon corrupting it.  
  
"Anakin."  
  
The helmeted head bowed slightly, mocking. "Master. We meet again."  
  
"A third time. When I was a child, they used to say there was magic in threes."  
  
"Superstitions will not save you this time. Nothing will. Though it was clever of you to go back to Tattooine. I would never have looked for you there. It was foolish of you to allow old ties to Organa to lead you out of hiding. You might have lived if you'd stayed buried."  
  
"Yes, I might have." Obi-Wan drew his saber, fighting the urge to laugh at how close freedom was. Soon, Qui-Gon, soon.  
  
"Still, I have to wonder if it was only that old connection that drew you out. Could there be something else about the girl that led you here? I understand from the reports that came in from Tattooine that you'd been living on your old farm with a young boy. I never knew you were so fond of children, Master. You seemed to be much more comfortable around Anakin once he'd reached adulthood."  
  
Obi-Wan felt a flicker of nervousness. He'd never told Luke who his father was, and he was pretty sure that Bail had never told Leia. It shouldn't have made a difference, since there'd be no one left alive to know once both Bail and Obi-Wan were dead. But if Anakin guessed, that would leave the children at his mercy, and without any idea why.  
  
Trying for distraction, Obi-Wan launched his attack, moving to strike at the demon. Years in the desert, without any care for himself, left him slower than he should have been, but the skill was still there. He didn't bother to call on it though, letting Anakin jump easily out of the way.  
  
"You've grown weak, Obi-Wan. A helpless old man."  
  
Obi-Wan smiled to himself, happy with the change of topic. He struck again, with as little success.  
  
Anakin toyed with him, seeming intent on studying him rather than ending it. After another heedless parry against one of Obi-Wan's awkward attacks, he said, "I want to thank you, Master, for what you did to me on Coruscant."  
  
Not knowing what he meant, and not really caring, Obi-Wan just kept fighting.  
  
"I told you then, that regardless of which one of us lived through that fight, that I would win. I never had a chance to explain that, but it looks as if I have it now." He laughed, the sound eerie through his electronic filters.  
  
"You must have wondered how I'd come to be in Anakin, though, and I have you to thank for that, also. I'd gone back to Tattooine for you, years ago, as I'd promised, but instead of finding the student and lover I'd meant to take for my own, I found a ghost. Not just any ghost, however, but one who'd managed to hold onto his identity instead of either disappearing into the Force, or becoming a mindless spirit. I was intrigued, so I started looking for answers. Years spent going through ancient texts, trying to discover how you'd managed what was a form of immortality, trying to see if there was a way I could achieve something of the same for myself, led to success; I found one."  
  
The demon gave another harsh laugh, flicking his blade through Obi-Wan's guard, leaving a burn along his shoulder. Obi-Wan hissed in pain, but then blocked it from his mind. It wouldn't matter for long.  
  
"I found a text, written by Darth Plagueis centuries ago, that described being able to transfer minds from one body to another. By doing that, I figured I could simply move into another, more suitable, body as the one I inhabited wore down. Knowing that, I decided it was time to stop being the student, and finally become the master. Unfortunately for me, my master wasn't quite ready to let go yet. He won."  
  
Another flick of Anakin's blade put a burn on Obi-Wan's other shoulder, slowing him down even further, though it wasn't an advantage that Anakin needed.  
  
"But even in dying, I thought I might win. I threw my mind at my master's body, as the text had instructed, but he was too strong, too aware of what I was trying, too familiar with the technique himself, as he'd been using it for years, so he shut me out. So there I was stuck, outside of my dying body, unable to move into the Force, and yet unable to move into my master's body either. Fortunately for me, my master called some servants into the room, to clean up the mess he'd made of me... though perhaps he'd meant for me to find a new home in one of them. He certainly helped me with that later."  
  
Anakin sounded thoughtful, but it didn't distract him from angling a burn across Obi-Wan's leg. It hurt, causing Obi-Wan to limp badly, but he kept up the charade of a fight, letting the demon have his say in payment for the service he was going to provide later.  
  
"I moved from body to body, fruitlessly searching for one with enough power to let me fully utilize it, hindered by the fact that I couldn't move to another host until the body I was in had died, its pull on me finally lessened enough for me to move on. It meant countless years of mundane, boring days, endlessly moving into more of the same. Who knows how long that would have continued if I hadn't seen you in the marketplace that day. Blindly walking through me, unaware I existed, but when you moved through me, it felt even better than when I'd moved in you at our first meeting."  
  
Obi-Wan felt a flare of anger at that, and managed to slip a strike past Anakin's guard, scoring a hit on his hand, an echo of the one he'd managed at their last confrontation. If Anakin even felt it, he didn't let it show.  
  
"I knew I would win that day no matter what happened; either by making Qui-Gon kill me, and then jumping to his body, or by killing him, and watching you suffer. You always looked so beautiful in your pain."  
  
The other leg took the burn that time, and Obi-Wan knew that the last twenty years had done away with any beauty he might have had claim to, but the demon still seemed to enjoy seeing his pain, his electronically aided breath coming faster as Obi-Wan struggled to hide it.  
  
"Things didn't turn out like I'd planned, of course, but I couldn't have asked for more. When you cut off my hand that day, I'd wanted you to kill me then, so that I could have your still-whole body, but even with the damage you did, and the burns that I got from the incinerator, this body has served me well. My _master_ , of old and new, did well by me. I'll do well by him, now, killing you as I'd once sworn to do."  
  
Another burn, across his stomach this time, and Anakin obviously meant for his death to be slow, but at least it was coming, and Obi-Wan took comfort in the thought that he'd finally, broken promises aside, be seeing Qui-Gon again.  
  
Anakin's next strike was halted by the sound of Luke's voice, screaming out, "Ben!" Luke's nickname for Obi-Wan, from when he was a baby and his now long-outgrown lisp had made Obi-Wan too hard for him to say. Luke only used it now when he was feeling particularly vulnerable. Obi-Wan looked down towards the hanger, seeing the boy there, Solo trying to pull at him to move him towards the ship. He wished Luke would go, so that he didn't have to see this, but he knew no word from him would make that happen.  
  
Anakin wasn't attacking, though, his own gaze on Luke. He turned back to Obi-Wan, and even though it was impossible to see, Obi-Wan was sure there was a sly smile hiding behind the mask. "So that's why you took the boy in. He's the picture of Anakin when he was that age, with just a touch of his mother. But Padme was pregnant with twins... ah, the little princess. Oh, this is a lovely present that you bring me, my Master. How kind of you and Organa to take care of them for me all these years."  
  
He raised his blade for the killing stroke, no longer needing to toy with his prey. "Don't worry, Obi-Wan, I'll take _good_ care of them now."  
  
The last twenty years hung on Obi-Wan. He'd struggled against a harsh climate, one he'd hated since he was child, and one he'd promised himself that he'd never willingly go back to once he escaped.  
  
He'd struggled with raising a boy that would have been difficult for someone with a natural inclination towards children, forget someone with a near aversion towards them, not even his years with a very young Qui-Gon enough to make Obi-Wan happy in their company.  
  
He'd struggled against his own loneliness. Qui-Gon's promise that he would always be with Obi-Wan having turned out to be just words, he'd had to spend all those years with only Luke for company. After having spent seventy years with Qui-Gon, life without him had been the greatest struggle of all. If it hadn't been for the dreams, the visions, of a reunion with his own death, with Qui-Gon, he wasn't sure if he wouldn't have stepped off that canyon wall for a second time in his life.  
  
Here was that moment he'd been living for, his death coming towards him at the end of a blood-red blade, but Luke's screams, Anakin's intentions towards the children, and a tiny little voice - that sounded a lot like Qui-Gon - telling him that he couldn't let it go like this, made Obi-Wan leap back to safety.  
  
Skills that he'd not bothered to use, not having wanted to win, came to the fore, and he sent a wave of Force towards Anakin, making him stagger back, while Obi-Wan ran towards the stairway and escape.  
  
His body hurt all over, the wounds he'd taken making it hard to run, but he let Luke's encouraging calls and Anakin's angry ones spur him on, following in the others' wake. Anakin had called for the hanger doors to be shut, trying to trap them, but they slipped through before the doors could completely close, and Obi-Wan had one last glimpse of the demon - a tall figure all in black, his red blade still lit, but the yellow eyes contained behind the mask - before he was cut off from sight.  
  
He managed to get on board the _Falcon_ before the pain of his injuries took him down into darkness.  
  
::::::::::  
  
Endor hung large above them, beautiful in a sky lit by brilliant stars, by the bonfires that blazed in the distance. It was finally over, and Obi-Wan let himself relax. He didn't know what would happen now, since his dreams had never shown him anything past this point, but at least his responsibilities were at an end.  
  
He could see Anakin by the fire, the light burning through him, seeming to set him alight. But it was truly Anakin, now, his apprentice as he had been, before the demon had taken over.  
  
Obi-Wan shuddered to think how horrible it must have been for him all those years; always somewhat aware of what was being done with his body, by his body, but having no control over it. Maybe Obi-Wan was just reading his own horror, from years of being able to see the world, but never able to interact with it, into what Anakin had gone through, but it was still something he wished he could have saved his padawan from ever having to experience.  
  
Like Obi-Wan had tried to do for Qui-Gon in a marketplace on Tattooine, Anakin had sacrificed himself for his son's life, finally managing to bring down both the Emperor and the demon that had controlled him for so long. It had cost him his life to do it, but the peace that was clearly visible on his face in death, and beyond, said it had been worth it.  
  
That sacrifice, and the death of the Emperor, were what made the celebration going on around the fires possible in the end. All their hard work would have meant nothing without them. The others were all over there, joy on their faces, even as Chewie noisily berated Lando over something, though it was obvious by his tone, and by the lack of severed limbs, that he wasn't serious about it.  
  
Luke was there, too, but his smile was forced, his eyes firmly fixed on Han as Han flirted with Leia. It was hard to read Luke's feelings, the bright, yellow glow of the fire filling his eyes, hiding their normal, easily-read blue, but Obi-Wan could sense the jealousy there, as well as the desire for Han that Luke had done a poor job hiding.  
  
Obi-Wan sighed. He tried to talk to the boy about it, but he'd been largely ignored. He wasn't Luke's conscience, though, and it wasn't his place to tell him how to live his life. He only hoped Luke learned to let it go, before he made all three of them miserable with wanting something that wasn't his.  
  
There was another figure by the fire, looking much like he had when he'd first taken Obi-Wan as an apprentice, with none of the subsequent years touching his not-quite-there face. But then, that figure was the reason why Obi-Wan was over here watching, instead of over there, joining in.  
  
Qui-Gon had never been prone to humoring Obi-Wan's wishes, though, not when he thought his own wishes more important, so Obi-Wan found himself with a companion out here in the stillness away from the others.  
  
There was only silence between them for a time, Qui-Gon waiting for Obi-Wan to speak, and Obi-Wan having no intention of doing so. But even after nearly thirty years of living without the man, Obi-Wan still found it hard to deny him.  
  
"I waited, Qui-Gon. I waited for years. And you were never there. Never. There."  
  
"I've always been there, my Obi-Wan. It just took me a while before I could make myself appear, and by that time, you'd closed yourself off from seeing me."  
  
Qui-Gon's hand ghosted out, caressing Obi-Wan's face, something Obi-Wan could only see, not feel. It hurt, and he almost wished Qui-Gon would stop, but he knew it would hurt worse if he did.  
  
"I thought..."  
  
"You thought I'd left you behind, like all the others had. I promise you, Obi-Wan, you were never alone. When you stood at the canyon's edge, feeling it call to you, I was always there, calling you back."  
  
Had he heard him then, when the nights had seemed too long, and life had been more of a burden than Obi-Wan wanted? Is that what had allowed him to move away, go home, and fall into dreams of a better past? Maybe.  
  
It's what he chose to believe now, anyway. "I missed you."  
  
Such a simple statement for an emotion that could hardly be contained. All Qui-Gon answered was, "I, too."  
  
It was somewhat ironic that they'd come full circle, Obi-Wan here and alive, Qui-Gon here and dead, and neither of them able to touch the other. It reminded Obi-Wan of when they first met, and he smiled at the memory, at the love that had changed and adapted over the years, but that had never dimmed in the least. They had lived before without touch. They could do it again.  
  
Either Qui-Gon had become a mind reader since his death, or Obi-Wan's thoughts were clear on his face, because Qui-Gon said, "You don't have to wait to touch me, Obi-Wan, not any more."  
  
Qui-Gon's voice, as compelling as ever, pulled Obi-Wan around, fully facing him. Without really knowing why, he reached out, meaning to pull Qui-Gon to him in a tight embrace, even knowing his arms would pass through nothing.  
  
And felt warm flesh beneath his hands. Surprised, he held still, not sure of what was happening, but Qui-Gon had no such problem. He cradled Obi-Wan's face in his hands, leaning in slowly, slowly, a light swipe of his tongue the harbinger of the fierce kiss that followed.  
  
Obi-Wan gave himself up to it, letting the questions go in the face of gaining something he'd wanted for so long. The kiss went on and on, neither of them even breaking for air, and it was only that thought that finally made Obi-Wan pull back.  
  
Looking at Qui-Gon, he found the man watching him expectantly. Obi-Wan just shook his head, confused. "What -" He cut off, not knowing what part of this to question first.  
  
"Look behind you."  
  
Lying on the ground behind him was a body, old and run down and apparently abandoned. Even as Obi-Wan watched, it started to fade, sinking into itself, until there was nothing left but the robes, also old and run down. He had always meant to replace those.  
  
Obi-Wan laughed. It wasn't everyday that you got to see yourself die. He'd had to wait long enough for it, at any rate.  
  
Feeling light beyond measure, wondering what he looked like now that he'd left his body behind, Obi-Wan laughed again, hearing an echo of it from the fire, seeing Anakin nodding at him, a pleased smile on his face as well. Luke would be sad, the others as well, but he'd done his duty by them, and it was time to let them stand on their own.  
  
He had better things to do now, anyway. Letting Endor fade away, and safe from any prying eyes, he kissed Qui-Gon again, wondering exactly what they could get up to now that physical constraints were a thing of the past.  
  
Qui-Gon seemed to sense that thought, too, or had just had it on his own, because his hands were already busy exploring the possibilities. One of them trailed along Obi-Wan's jaw, the touch just as pleasing as it had been in life, and said, "Always with you, my Obi-Wan. Always with you."  
/story


End file.
